


sharp stones (interlude)

by ScreechTheMighty



Category: God of War (Video Games)
Genre: Companion Piece, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mimir is always right and that's just a fact, Negative Self Talk, Post-Game, Reconciliation, Self Loathing, anger issues, meltdowns, no beta reader we die like men, parental loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28905939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreechTheMighty/pseuds/ScreechTheMighty
Summary: rejection sensitivity:the tendency to anxiously expect, readily perceive, and intensely react to rejection. | A companion piece to ch. 9 of "his mother's son."
Relationships: Atreus & Kratos (God of War), Atreus & Mimir (God of War)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	sharp stones (interlude)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [his mother's son](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27362584) by [ScreechTheMighty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreechTheMighty/pseuds/ScreechTheMighty). 



> As stated in the summary, this is a companion piece to a different fic of mine, and it's _really_ not going to make sense unless you've read that first, so you can check that out [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27362584/chapters/66862324) Chapter 9 is what this fic ties into specifically, and since it's really episodic up until the last two chapters you can just read that and then come back here if you'd like. (You should totally read the whole thing, though, just tooting my own horn.)

Sometimes it felt like his mind was screaming. It was like there was a swarm of bees in his skull, all angry, but angry at different things. At the wulvers. At Father. At himself.

Atreus couldn’t make it stop, so he kept running.

By the time he reached the river, his toes were cold, one of his feet hurt, and he was struggling to breathe. Atreus knew he should probably get out of the wind, but instead he went to the water. There was still blood all over him. It was sticky, it didn’t feel good, and he wanted it _off_. He had to break through a thin layer of ice to get to the water, and his hands and face stung as he scrubbed the blood away. It hurt, but it felt better than the blood did.

As he scrubbed, his thoughts turned into a single, unified voice: _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He’s angry at you again. You messed up. Why did you do that? Why can’t you do anything right?_

He hated feeling that way. He wanted to be angry at Father, but no matter how much he tried, his mind kept blaming everything on him.

_He’s going to leave and it’s **all your fault.**_

Atreus gritted his teeth against a scream and pounded his fist against the ground. _Shut up, shut up, shut up_ , why couldn’t his brain just be _quiet?!_

His fingers were starting to hurt. The pain wasn’t enough to make his mind stop screaming, but it was enough to make him go into the nearby cave and try to warm his hands.

His foot was bleeding. Stupid. Stupid. He should’ve grabbed his boots. _You’re so **stupid.**_

Atreus closed his eyes and clutched at his hair and tried to remember his mother’s voice. How she used to stroke his hair and tell him that he wasn’t stupid. That he was clever and brave. Atreus could always believe it when _she_ said it, but now that she was gone…

It wasn’t fair. It _wasn’t fair._

He curled up against the wall and tried to pull his mind out of the swarm. To remember the prayers that his mother had taught him.

_Lo, there, do I see the face of my mother…_

People don’t really leave us. That’s what she told him. Even when they die, their spirits watch from the halls of their ancestors, sending strength and wisdom if you asked for it.

_The brave shall live forever._

No one was braver than his mother. No one. She _had_ to hear him. He _needed_ her.

“Mom,” Atreus whispered. “ _Mom._ ”

But he didn’t know what to say. It was all too much.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. What am I doing wrong?”

The wind howled outside. He focused as hard as he could, trying to hear her, hoping to feel that she was there, somehow, but all he felt was cold, cold, cold and emptiness.

“I was just trying to keep him safe. I didn’t mean…” He sniffed, stopping to wipe away tears. “…You’d know what to do if you were here.”

He knew that for sure. Mom _always_ knew what to do.

“Please…”

“Boy?” called a voice from outside the cave.

Atreus froze. Oh, no, Father had found him. He was _really_ going to be in trouble now. _Maybe he isn’t sure I’m here…maybe he’ll go away if I stay quiet…_

“Atreus, it’s Mimir. I know you’re not exactly keen on talking to your da right now, but do you think we could talk?”

 _Mimir._ Mimir always listened. Mimir was smart. He might not be Mom, but he’d know what to do. Right? “Yeah,” Atreus called back. “I guess so.”

“All right. He’s going to leave me at the top of the entrance, yeah? So we can talk privately.” Atreus was sure Mimir was telling the truth, but he didn’t risk looking out until he heard Mimir again. “He’s gone, lad. Just us.”

He wasn’t lying. When Atreus looked over the top of the cave, Mimir was sitting on the ground. Father was standing far away among the trees, watching but not coming closer. Atreus grabbed Mimir and ducked back into the cave as quickly as he could, just in case Father changed his mind.

“Are you hurt?” Mimir asked.

“I…I cut my foot. I think I stepped on something.” Atreus settled down with Mimir in his lap and wiped more tears away. “Is he mad at me?”

“He’s worried about you. I think it just came out like anger. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“There were…wulvers. More than one. One of them was trying to bite Father…” Atreus felt his heart start racing at the memory—how close its teeth had been to his throat, how Father looked like he was struggling to keep it away, even though he was really strong. “…I didn’t want him to die, but I couldn’t fight them off alone so I just…I just…”

Atreus had felt that fire before, almost every time he got sick, and _especially_ when Modi had attacked them in Tyr’s temple. Today was the first time it felt like something he could control, the way Father did. It felt like the _only_ option.

“I thought I was controlling it, but he’s acting like I didn’t. Like I just…killed them because I wanted to. Why is it okay when _he_ does it, but…” Atreus could feel himself getting angry again. He stopped to breathe. He didn’t want to get angry in front of Mimir. “I can’t do _anything_ right.”

“No, no, that’s not true."

"Then why's he always mad at me?"

"He's _not_. It's like…" Mimir paused to think. His eyes glinted as they moved back and forth. "Remember how you told me you can't tell what he's thinking and how confusing that is?"

"Yeah." They talked about that a lot, actually. It felt like Mimir knew what Father was thinking better than Atreus ever did.

"Well, he can't tell what you're thinking, either. But he assumes, because grown-ups like assuming, and sometimes he's wrong. A _lot_ of the time he's wrong, because you two really are night and day, and you haven't figured out how to talk to each other yet. That's all. And it's something _he's_ got to learn, too, so don't go thinking that's all your fault."

Maybe he was right. Atreus _wanted_ to believe he was right, but all he could focus on were the parts that _were_ his fault. "Mimir?" he asked hesitantly. "Am I... _bad?_ " He felt dumb saying it like that, but that was the only way he _could_. He couldn't find the words to make his angry, scared thoughts make sense.

"Absolutely not," Mimir said immediately. "I've seen bad, little brother. You're nothing like that."

"And Father really doesn't think…?"

Mimir sighed. "No, no, he doesn’t. He's made a lot of mistakes and he doesn't want you to end up with his regrets. Frankly, I think it scares the shit out of him that you might. People do stupid things when they're scared, even your father."

That _kind of_ made sense. Atreus had never thought about it like that. "Like Freya and Baldur."

"Exactly like that. Difference is, the two of you realize you've made mistakes. There's still time to fix it."

"...I guess." It sure didn't _feel_ like it, though.

It was quiet after that. Atreus's thoughts weren't so loud, but now they were fuzzy and weird and tired. Mimir was the first to speak: "I know you're probably still shaken, but...frankly, it's freezing out here, and if your foot's bleeding, you should get that tended to. Why don't you come out and we can all go home, yeah? Rest up, see if this feels better in the morning?"

Atreus did feel _really_ tired, and his foot was starting to bother him. But… "I don't want to get another lecture," Atreus said.

"There won’t be any lectures," Mimir said. "Not right now. He just wants you home. But if he tries, I promise I'll be on your side." Atreus must've looked skeptical, because Mimir added, "Lad, trust me. I had to sit through Odin's outbursts with a straight face. There's nothing your father can say that’s going to scare me, and I think I’m just as stubborn as he is."

That was probably true. "Thanks, Mimir." Atreus stood up carefully. He felt stiff all over. "For listening. And for being on my side."

"No problem at all."

Atreus felt a little better, right until he was out of the cave and saw Father. He was pacing back and forth, the way he used to when Mother was sick. Atreus would watch him from the crack in the door, wondering what he was thinking. He didn't know then, and he definitely didn't know now. Every time Atreus thought he knew, he ended up being wrong.

Father realized they were there and stopped pacing. There was still a bit of sun left; it made Father's eyes look red, but they turned gold again when he stepped closer. "He cut his foot a bit, but it's nothing serious," Mimir said. "We're all right, right?"

"...yeah. Just kind of stings." It stung a lot now, actually, but he didn't want to complain in front of Father. Especially since the injury was his own fault.

Father moved closer slowly, like he thought Atreus was going to run again. Atreus gritted his teeth and waited for a lecture. _You should have been more careful. Why did you run away? That was dangerous, boy, foolish_ …

"You shouldn't walk on it," Father said softly. "Here."

He took Mimir, put him back on his belt, and knelt down to let Atreus on his back. Atreus climbed on, because his foot hurt and he _was_ cold, but he was confused. Father didn't usually carry him places, unless he really couldn't walk. Father didn't even say anything about what had happened as they walked back to the house.

Was Mimir right? _Had_ he really just been scared? It was weird to think about. It also made Atreus feel worse about yelling at him. Even if he was being stupid (they had both been kind of stupid), if he was scared…

 _This is a mess_ , Atreus thought.

At least he wasn't _so_ cold by the time they got home. Father never seemed to get cold, no matter how much it snowed. Even in Helheim, he'd been warm.

When they got home, Father bandaged his foot and helped him clean off. Atreus felt a little better once he was in clean clothes and under his blankets, but the guilt and fear were still there, chewing on his stomach. "Am I in trouble?" he asked.

It was difficult to see Father's face in the house's low light, but Atreus could see him shake his head. "No. We'll discuss this further tomorrow. Rest for now."

"Okay." That was good, because Atreus still felt strange and fuzzy. He didn't think he'd be able to talk about what happened.

Except…

"Sorry I pushed you," Atreus said. "And said I'd let the wulvers kill you."

He might not have been able to talk about all of it, but he didn't want to go to sleep without saying that.

“I forgive you,” Father said. “I’m sorry as well. For not listening.” _What?_ “I will tomorrow. I promise.”

 _…oh_.

Atreus couldn’t reply. His head was too full again. But he knew he had to do _something_ , so he got up and moved to the other bed. When Father didn’t tell him to get back in bed, he got into his parents’ bed, curling up close to Father and taking his hand.

Father didn’t pull away.

For the first time since they left the house that day, Atreus felt safe.

Like maybe everything was going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr as screechthemighty if tumblr is your thing. Sorry if my queue is spitting out a lot of Mandalorian content. I hyperfixated a wee bit. >.> The fic description is taken from a study cited in the How to ADHD video "[How to Deal With Rejection Sensitivity](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jM3azhiOy5E)", which can be seen at 1:20 into the video. (The citation is in the bottom of the screen and the stupid progress bar blocks it when I pause so I can't copy down the study name. It's in the video, though, I promise.)


End file.
